


Somatosensation

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: But Mostly Smut, F/F, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Tribbing, a little romance, i think this is the shortest thing ive ever posted, it's just smut!, my first 'who fic!, the doctor is a bottom, this is my evidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: Yaz realises the Doctor's senses are far more attuned than her own, and uses it against her.Somatosensation: the perception of all sensory stimuli coming from the skin.





	Somatosensation

It was so easy to forget who The Doctor was when she was writhing powerless under Yaz, braced between two toned thighs. The Doctor’s influence, her history, her legacy, her age, all melted away with each trust of Yaz’s hips. She may be dangerous and ageless, but nonetheless, she looked like a human woman. A woman who would buck and moan and sob each time Yaz made their clits brush over each other.

The Time Lord was so _sensitive_ , always in tune with her body and her environment. She noticed every tiny thing, each movement and heartbeat in the world around her. Except now her world was only occupied by Yaz. By the triple-pounding of their heartbeats and the heaving of their breath. That sensitivity was being used against her, as Yaz continued to force her most sensitive skin onto The Doctor’s. Their pubic mounds met clumsily each time, before Yaz roughly found the older woman’s clit with her own. Every single stroke had a build up, made The Doctor gasp and then groan, had her rolling her hips against the bed to try and get away from the intensity.

Maybe she had more nerves down there, Yaz had pondered one night, as they lay exhausted in The Doctor’s bed. For someone who boasted how she never needed sleep, The Doctor never failed to nap with Yaz after an orgasm or two. It was so delightfully human, the way she’d grasp for her companion, pull her as close as the curves and planes of their bodies allowed. Praise never flowed from The Doctor’s tongue quite like when they were cuddled together, naked and in the afterglow, as Yaz’s eyelids were drooping and her breathing was shallow.

But during sex, she was wild. The Doctor never voiced it, but Yaz knew she loved to relinquish control. Maybe it was because on their travels The Doctor always felt like she had to make every single decision. Like she had to take responsibility not only for herself, but for her companions and each new friend she stumbled across. Alone with Yaz, however, in her carefully hidden room on the TARDIS, she could peel of that layer, let herself be _controlled._ It felt like a compliment, for The Doctor to trust Yasmin enough to let her in, in to this sacred room, let her see The Doctor’s body. It was an honour to control the Time Lord’s pleasure, to dangle it just out of her reach or punish her with it. As much as she insisted it didn’t feel like hers, The Doctor felt every cell in her body with excruciating intensity.

Once, she’d said that she didn’t know how much time had passed, whilst they’d been in that room, and Yasmin was gobsmacked. It went against her very nature, against her genetic makeup, The Doctor said, to forget to count the passing seconds. Yaz was in a very small circle of people, apparently, who’d been able to mute the metronome in her head.

Yaz wondered if The Doctor was counting the milliseconds that passed now, as she dragged her pussy across the older woman’s once more. Was she analysing Yaz’s tempo, calculating when she would make contact next. Yaz paused for a second to see, disrupting the pace, and was rewarded which a whine. She smiled as The Doctor contorted her lower body, trying desperately to find friction.

“’You gonna be good?” Yaz teased, resisting the urge to lick across The Doctor’s gritted teeth, to smooth her thumbs over the creases around The Doctor’s screwed-shut eyes. “Don’t come yet, Doctor. Surely you can control yourself for a bit longer?”

The blonde shook her head sharply, hands clenching in to fists where they were held above her head. Yasmin had never told her to hold them there, she noted. The Doctor just did it. Held herself submissive to Yaz’s desires, let her do whatever she wanted.

“I think you can, Doctor. I think you will.”

The Doctor opened her eyes with a gasp, staring up at the younger woman. Kind, mischievous eyes met The Doctor’s own, which were as impassioned as Yaz had ever seen, brimming with tears. She was strong, but The Doctor could overpower her, Yaz knew. But she didn’t. As Yaz continued her rhythm with punishing, shorter, sharper shoves of her hips, her own clit ached from the friction. She could only imagine how The Doctor felt. She so sensitive, felt each tiny movement that Yaz couldn’t. There was no way she could last any longer. From experience, Yaz knew that The Doctor must be nearing her limit, felt her trembling from holding back an orgasm, but she pushed her anyway. Yaz wanted to break her.

“Yaz… it hurts. Please…” The Doctor choked out, her fingers gripping at the bedsheets.

The drag of her skin over The Doctor’s continued, only speeding up with each desperate moan and whimper.

“Tell me to stop.” Yaz told her, one hand caressing the older woman’s face.

They both knew this game. Knew that The Doctor loved to beg like this. The Doctor’s thighs were straining, she was working with Yaz to meet her, getting more accurate with each arc and curve of Yaz’s back, with each thrust. The Doctor’s breathing was getting more erratic, deeper, like she couldn’t catch her breath. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Yaz… Yasmin I can’t!” she gasped, chest rising off the bed as her hips bucked. The Doctor bit her lower lip until it blossomed white, desperately trying to muffle her own moans. When The Doctor came it was like a release of pent up energy, her whole body writhing, curving, and twisting back and forth against the soft sheets. It was the only time Yaz had ever seen her sweat excessively, moisture gathering on her forehead and between her breasts. The come down

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, eyes still closed. They opened to seek out Yaz’s, who had moved to lay beside her. The bed was huge, but both women barely took up a quarter of it, so close together in the centre.

“I couldn’t hold on.”

“It’s okay.” Yaz smiled reassuringly, one hand finding The Doctor’s. With the other she brushed the blonde’s wild, messy hair out of her flushed face. “That was amazing.”

“Mmmm… that’s me. Amazing.” The Doctor reached out for Yaz, who happily curled onto The Doctor’s body, carefully avoiding her sensitive clit. The older woman held her close, content to just be near her. But Yaz was still desperate. She hadn’t come yet, a fact that The Doctor had apparently forgotten. Yaz’s fingers were tentatively seeking out her own pussy when The Doctor stopped her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Give me a moment, I’ll do that for you.” She murmured, breath a little cool on Yaz’s face.

The Doctor finished her off with that quick, silver tongue of hers. Yaz thought about it sometimes, when The Doctor was charming a native on a planet or bartering their way out of trouble. That tongue had started and ended wars, but she got to feel it flicking across her cunt, reaching insider her. She got to feel how The Doctor was so desperate to please, worked so hard to get Yaz off. The power made it feel even better, to know she was the one that The Doctor fought to come home to.

Adoring eyes watched as Yaz came, two hands gripping onto the fat over her hipbones, gentle kitten licks guiding her through her orgasm. God, she was lucky. Yaz lay unresponsive as The Doctor cleaned her up, scurried around the room to try and figure out where the TARDIS left a blanket for them. It was blissful, and her chest ached with a pang of affection for the woman who’s bed she was in. The Doctor would probably attribute that to oxytocin.

“All good?” Yaz asked, as The Doctor finally returned to the bed, struggling with a blanket to try and cover them.

The Time Lord didn’t need the warmth, but Yaz definitely did. The older woman lay back down, hands finding Yaz’s body magnetically under the covers. It was too dark to see her face, but Yaz could hear the grin in The Doctor’s voice.

“Amazing.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is not how I thought i'd spend my sunday evening, but here we are.  
> I've got something bigger in the works, but I like to finish stories before I post them so ..?
> 
> Any and all comments/suggestions are much appreciated! 
> 
> (This is un-beta'd, I'll probably return to edit it more at some point.)


End file.
